A Very Juliet Take Two
by pisces317
Summary: What would have happened if Shawn had been injured when he fell out of the tree in A Very Juliet Episode? Read here and find out! Obviously, Shawn-whump.


**Title: **A Very Juliet Take Two

**Summary: **A rewrite of a Very Juliet Episode so that it includes some Shawn whump.

**Spoilers: **Mention of Shawn Takes a Shot in the Dark and, of course, A Very Juliet Episode

**Characters: **Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Chief Vick, Marshall Wayne, briefly mentioned Scott.

**Pairing: **None but a hint at Shules

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Psych are not mine so I definitely do not own them. I am simply borrowing, hurting and playing with.

**Author's Note: **This was written just because I wanted to get some more Shawn-whump out there. I hope you enjoy. Please remember to review!

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><p>Shawn yelled out a long cry as he slid down the tree, trying to prepare himself for the pain that was to come. The bark sliced, scratched, and burned his hands as he went but there was nothing for that; he had to escape before the strange man with the gun caught up to him. About ten feet from the forest floor, he felt his grip on the tree loosen as a painful throb stabbed his left shoulder and he landed hard on the ground. Instantaneous, nauseating pain seared through his right ankle but he forced as much of it from his mind as he could so that he could heavily limp after Gus and Scott instead.<p>

"What took you so long?" Gus questioned when he finally showed up at the Blueberry. Both he and Scott were standing next to the car, watching anxiously for signs of their quarry.

Shawn glared at his friend. "Dude, Really? I just slid down a tree, my hands are scratched, and I'm limping and the first question you ask is what took me so long?"

Gus straightened at his challenge and made a move to step forward and help but Shawn waved him away dismissively and got into the backseat of the car. Before they came to investigate, a long argument had ensued between Shawn and Gus about whom should sit in the back seat of the car – Shawn or Scott – and Shawn had eventually lost. To be fair, his legs _were _shorter than Scott's but it still bugged him to be pushed into the back. It felt like he was being replaced.

He closed the passenger door and looked out to see that Gus was still staring at him, a small portion of concerned guilt mixing with a much larger portion of annoyance on his face. Shawn mentally waved off the annoyance knowing that it was Gus being uber-prissy about keeping his car clean and, what with Shawn having essentially fallen out of a tree he wasn't exactly clean at the moment. It was the small amount of guilt on his friend's face that made him give a small "I'm okay" nod.

"Dude are we gonna go or are we gonna sit around and wait for the guy with the gun to come and find us? Cause, I don't know about you but I don't particularly look forward to getting shot again."

Gus pursed his lips in a "whatever" face and rolled his eyes before he quickly scampered into the driver's side. Though he hadn't said anything, Shawn knew that the reminder of when he had been shot had brought up some bad memories for the pharmaceutical salesman but really, all he was trying to do was joke. He shifted to try and get some more leg room (Gus was taller than he looked) and instantly stopped with a brief cry as his ankle got caught under the chair.

"Shawn?" Gus inquired while keeping his gaze on the road. In the rearview mirror, Shawn saw his brown eyes flick briefly from the road into the backseat to look at him in concern before focusing back on the road.

Scott looked into the backseat with concern written on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I do that all the time. You know, just to make sure that you're paying attention." His teeth clenched together in a grimace as a fresh wave of pain swept through his lower leg then continued, "Congratulations, you passed! You've just won an endless stream of pineapples and your very own copy of Pretty in Pink. Not to mention endless face-time with your favorite psychic."

He flashed a toothy grin that didn't reach his eyes hoping that it would get Scott to leave him alone. Sadly, the do-gooder wasn't satisfied and continued to stare at him with a fair amount of concern in his eyes.

Brown eyes flicked into the rearview mirror again, this time in scolding but Gus never opened his mouth. They both knew that Gus knew that something was wrong with Shawn, he'd already said as much, but Gus guessed that he wanted to keep it private.

"Uh-huh," Scott said, clearly not believing Shawn for a minute. Before he could say any more, however, Gus pulled up to Scott's apartment and parked. Both Shawn and Gus stared at Scott until he disappeared behind the door of his house then Gus looked back into his rearview.

"Okay Shawn – what's wrong? Is it your shoulder?"

Shawn sighed. Though his shoulder had long been healed since he'd been shot, there had been a small amount of nerve damage. It wasn't a lot and most of the time he never noticed it but every so often, like after he'd had a long day for example, the shoulder would hurt. The level of pain depended on how active he'd been. If it was just a bit of running, and falling, and perhaps some fighting then it was merely a constant pang; it was usually eased by a cold pack and a small bit of favoring. Tonight, he doubted he'd be that lucky. Under the buzz of the ankle pain, he could feel the shoulder intensely throbbing. He sighed again when he realized that if Gus found this out, he would make the fake psychic use the dreaded sling for the next couple of days.

When he'd first been released, Gus had done nothing but mother hen him. If it even looked like Shawn was getting tired, Gus made him sit down and rest. If Shawn so much as winced when his shoulder was moved, Gus made sure that he had an ice pack to help numb the pain. It would have been really endearing if Shawn hadn't found it so incredibly annoying. Once, the pair of friends went for a walk out on the boardwalk, just to enjoy the day, and someone had accidentally bumped into Shawn's injured shoulder; Gus gave the poor guy a glare that even made Shawn shut up. From then on out, Gus walked on Shawn's injured side, guarding it from random bumps.

"No Gus, my shoulder's fine," he answered with another sigh as he turned to raise his right leg onto the back seat. He knew Gus would kill him later for it but right now, he could care less; his ankle killed and somewhat elevating it helped a lot. In the mirror Gus raised his eyebrows in a disbelieving fashion and Shawn amended his statement. "Okay, it's not fine, it hurts but I barely feel it."

"Then what's wrong?" Gus asked, entirely misunderstanding what Shawn meant. Usually when Shawn said that, he meant that the pain was barely there but this time he meant that he barely felt it over another, stronger pain. "You were limping earlier; did you hurt your knee?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. Leave it to Gus to pick out an injury that happened three years ago and hasn't bothered him since. "Halfway down the tree, I lost my grip and didn't have time to drop and roll before I landed on the ground." Gus winced and Shawn nodded, "Yeah. I think I sprained my ankle pretty good."

The car pulled up to the curb beside the SBPD and Gus shut it off, turning awkwardly to face Shawn in the backseat. His eyes traveled from the leg that was elevated on the backseat to the dirt on Shawn's jeans and shoe then back to Shawn's face. He opened his mouth to say something, stopped then closed it. Accusing brown eyes softened and the next time he opened his mouth it was in a question, "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"The hospital? No," Shawn denied with a grimace as another wave of pain lanced through his foot. "A doctor, probably. But first, I need to tell Chief about the bullet in the tree." He lowered his leg from the seat, the grimace from earlier deepening as the blood rushed to the injured limb. His hand reached out to open the door but Gus beat him to it.

"And how are you planning on doing that?" he challenged as he stood behind the door and watched Shawn hobble out of the car.

"Gus, don't be the bacteria in yogurt. I am perfectly capable having a vision in my normal, zaney fashion." He took a step towards the department and instantly fell against the open door, and coincidentally Gus, as pain shot through his ankle and the joint rolled under his weight. Gus' eyes rose in emphasis but Shawn ignored it as he tried once again to take a step.

Again he fell against the open door as his ankle gave out. This time he cried out as the joint rolled under his weight, overstretching the already overstretched ligaments. He remained leaning against the door, breathing through the pain and holding his leg above ground.

"Shawn, sit back down," Gus commanded and Shawn felt gentle hands slowly try to push him back into the car.

"Mr. Spencer," the Chief called drawing the two men's attention to her. They looked towards the stairs to see her, Juliet, and Marshal Wayne strolling towards them. "Am I correct when I say that you and Mr. Guster took a federal witness to an old crime scene _after _you alerted the guy he put in prison that he was no longer under witness protection?"

"Wow," Shawn said, looking over at Gus in awe. "Frankly I'm amazed that you said that entire sentence in one breath. Gus, can you believe it?"

"Don't bring me into this Shawn," he said instead of answering.

"Bring you into this? Dude, you're already into it."

"Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster – please!" the Chief called, halting their argument before it officially started. "Now then, Mr. Spencer, would you please answer the question."

Shawn step-hopped, using the door for support, to address the Chief full on. It hurt far more than he liked but he was too busy trying to pretend everything was fine-ish to show much of a reaction. He smiled appreciatively when he saw Juliet's eyebrows furrow in concern; _Aww, she does care! _

"Yes Chief, you are correct," he answered honestly, not bothering to deny anything she'd just said. "But," he added, putting his hand to his head, "I was able to psychically see where the bullet was hiding."

"Be that as it may, you do not alert criminals that the person that put them in jail for the rest of their life is out of witness protection!" The words themselves were scolding but the Chief's tone was that of someone who was explaining something to someone for the hundredth time and were tired of it.

"In my defense, Waring was good. I mean, he was cool as a cucumber. He could almost compete with Desperaux in coolness; _that's _how good he was. He totally outsmarted me."

"Like that's hard," Wayne interjected under his breath. Shawn and Gus looked at him but the cops pretended they hadn't heard.

The Chief held up her hand to silence any comeback Shawn might have. "Fine, we'll let that one go, for now. How about you tell me about this missing bullet you found?"

"Sure thing but first," Shawn held his index finger up in the number one and waved at the officers, "can someone go inside and get a chair? I think I need to sit down."

"Why don't you sit down in the car and tell us now?" the Chief countered, putting her arms over her chest.

"Chief Vick," Wayne interrupted drawing her attention. "It might be a good idea to get Spencer a chair."

Shawn cocked his head to the right, looking at the Federal Marshall with confusion.

"Forgive my bluntness Marshall but, since when do you care?" the Chief countered curiously. When Wayne stuttered she continued, "From the very moment you've entered the department you have showed Mr. Spencer nothing but contempt. Now while that is a common occurrence for every visitor, what's not common is for the hostile person to suddenly start caring out of no where."

"It's not out of no where," Wayne hastily defended. "It's obvious he's injured."

Two pairs of eyes turned back to Shawn, slowly scanning over him but he wasn't paying attention. All of Shawn's focus was now on the Federal Marshall. Something of what the Chief said had struck a chord with him and his mind had begun to make connections that hadn't even been considered. Hazel eyes traveled down to the Marshall's hands and things clicked.

"It was you," he announced quietly. Four pairs of eyes focused on what he was saying, half of them forgetting his possible injury. "You're the one that shot at us so you could get to the bullet; the one that came from your gun, the one that killed your partner."

"That is absurd!" Wayne declared. By his side, his fists clenched into fists and Shawn took that as a good sign.

"Is it?" Shawn countered looking down at himself then around at everyone else. "I'm not wearing my giant wiener costume; which, by the way, I _was _sorely tempted to do so I could promote my Wiener-Zamboni truck idea but I decided that jeans were more practical."

"Get to the point Spencer," Carlton Lassiter growled.

"Lassie! When did you get here?"

"Just get – to – the – point – Spencer," Lassiter ground out through clenched teeth. If Wayne really was the killer, then he wanted to hurry up and arrest the man.

"It was you. It was all you," Shawn calmly accused, looking only at the Marshall. Wayne bowed his head in a slightly guilty manner and Shawn raised his hand to his head as another epiphany "psychically" came to him. "It was an accident. You saw a gun and you saw a figure and you thought it was Waring. Then Waring came in, saw the body on the ground and pulled his gun. And that's when Scott came in; he saw Waring standing over the body then flee the scene. When you got to the room, you realized your horrible mistake; your partner lying lifeless on the ground. The only one who could have shot him, was you. So you repositioned the body making it look like Waring had shot him and you pinned the whole thing on Waring. Murder conviction was a lock; followed by a long sentence which Waring deserved but always alluded because of his cool demeanor and his Billy Zanian qualities. I mean, let's be honest, that man has a presence. But most importantly it meant that your partner, Agent Renfroe didn't die in vain."

"You know, I _really _wish you wouldn't have said that," Wayne said, the words his only warning before he quickly grabbed Juliet and put his gun to her head.

Shawn's first instinct was to step forwards in an attempt to distract Wayne, giving everyone else enough time to act, and he followed it. Unfortunately it didn't work quite like he had expected; instead of bravely stepping forward and using his mouth to distract Wayne, he collapsed to the ground, hitting the car door on his way, with a loud cry of pain as his ankle reminded him that it couldn't take his weight. With Wayne's attention on Shawn, Lassiter tackled the government agent, knocking Wayne's gun to the ground and freeing Juliet.

Juliet ran over to Shawn to check on him while Lassiter arrested the ex-Federal Marshall. "Shawn, what's wrong?" she asked as she knelt down before him. She put her hands out, placing one on his left shoulder and the other on his right ankle, which he happened to be holding onto with his right hand.

"Ow, ow, ow, holy Billy Zane ow!" Shawn cried pathetically, only having to half fake the pain. Juliet's touch on both his shoulder and ankle were quite painful but since he was hoping to get some sympathy from the beautiful detective, he did the complete opposite of what he normally would have done and over exaggerated the pain. He almost regretted his over exaggeration when Juliet withdrew her hands but he held out faith that it would work out in the end.

"Sorry," she apologized sincerely. Shawn offered a small, pained, smile when he saw that there were tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. She blinked away the trace of tears and she drew a breath. "What happened?" she asked. Her hand once again went out to touch him but she stopped and lowered them again.

"Well, you see Jules, I was on my way to get a pineapple smoothie when I heard a girl screaming. It turns out she was trying to save her kitten which was stuck in a tree. I, of course being the fantastic guy that I am, volunteered to get the kitten down for her. There was a small mishap on the way down."

"You fell out of a tree?" Lassiter mocked while not bothering to hide the smile on his face.

"While heroically rescuing a kitten," Shawn reiterated emphatically. He hissed as Juliet once again touched his ankle. She offered an apologetic smile then she proceeded to untie his shoe. A scream worthy of a fifteen year old girl in a slasher movie was wrenched from his throat as she unflinchingly pulled his shoe off.

"Oh come on, Spencer, I bet you've barely sprained it," Lassiter snapped sounding annoyed. Shawn's head snapped up to glare at the Head Detective, a permanent grimace on his features and tears in his eyes.

"Actually Carlton, I think the sprain's pretty bad," Juliet announced as she gently fingered his now badly swollen ankle. She looked up when he hissed again. "Somehow I don't think skater shoes are meant for climbing trees."

"Or falling out of them," Gus interjected absently. He shrugged when Shawn glared at him.

Juliet inhaled in a hiss when Shawn gasped again at her touch. "You should really get to a doctor."

"I'm sure I will," Shawn reassured. Before he could say anything else, Gus interjected.

"In fact, I think that's where we'll go right now." Gus stepped around the side of the car, abandoning his post on the opposite side of the car door, and moved in to help Shawn stand up.

Juliet backed away to give the pair of friends room. Tears sprang to her eyes once more when Shawn hissed as his ankle was jostled. She'd known for some time just how much she felt for Shawn but her reaction to his pain still surprised her. Each sound of pain he made, even the ones he made when he was getting a psychic vision, caused her stomach to twist into knots and pain to stab her heart.

She waited until Gus got Shawn into the car then she stepped forward and leaned down. "I'll call later to see how you're doing," she promised with a smile.

"Aww, Jules," he cooed, "that's so sweet. You know, if you felt so inclined, you could stop by while wearing that roller derby outfit you had a year ago. It was really hot." She rolled her eyes at him so he continued. "What? Too much? Well, how about the skirt you wore when you infiltrated the sorority?" He paused then he called her name, "Jules!"

Juliet had laughed, rolled her eyes and then walked away. The idea of visiting him in person wasn't a bad one but still, it wouldn't hurt him to sweat things a bit. She didn't want to get his hopes up, after all.

_**~fin~**_


End file.
